A Ragged Blade
by Lucid3762
Summary: When a new foe rises up from the ashes, what will Dexter do? What if there's more than meets the eye?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everybody!**

**My name is Lucid3762, and this is my second story I've made (the first one is a Danny Phantom back story of Ember). I'm excited to write this fanfiction, Dexter is my favorite show and my all time favorite character is Brian(Biney). **

**Please enjoy and do ****_not_**** be afraid to write reviews critiquing me. **

**Thank you! And enjoy The Ragged Blade.**

**~Lucid3762**

* * *

A scream, why must it always be a screamer? The man on the table wiggled around in his plastic restraints, eyes wide with terror. A smile curled onto my lips, they're so adorable when they fight for their lives. Too bad though, he was devilishly handsome, but his dark side overweight his charm. I glanced over at the polaroid photos hanging on a string attached to the wall. Jason Modulo: male, 26 at the time of his demise. Dennese Modulo: female, 20 at her death. Annie Modulo: female, 16. The entire Modulo family, dead, their long-running bloodline, cut. This horrible man, John Summers, had murdered them out of fear of being caught in a robbery. He should have just looted the place and took his chances. The moment death entered the picture, you could bet I'd be there right behind it. I picked up my scalpel, the trusty object I use to help in obtaining my prizes. The moment I emerged from the shadows, the man on the table stopped screaming and just looked at me. I know I'm not pretty, but damn, he doesn't need to stare. My raven hair, tied back neatly in a high ponytail and my blue-grey eyes pierced his dull brown ones.

"Hi." I said childly to him, poking a hole in the saran wrap that encased his mouth.

"Oh child!" he cried as he took much grateful breaths, "Thank you! Please get me out of here!"

"Why on earth would I want to do that Mr. Summers?" I ask with genuine curiosity.

"Well some psychopathic dude just drugged me and tied me in saran wrap." he cried, exasperated, "C'mon kid, get me outta here."

"Is that what you said to Jason, to Dennese, to Annie?" my voice turned cold. His once pleading stare now hardened.

"You…" he started, "You're the bitch who drugged me!". Again he started to thrash about in the restraints.

"It wasn't hard!" I complained. After all, being sixteen meant I could work, and woe is him that he just coincidentally happened to go to the coffee shop I worked at everyday from 6 to 9 sipping his coffee and reading, occasionally typing, on his sleek grey computer. When I knew that he was the one I needed to bring peace to the Modulo family, I slipped some chloral hydrate into his coffee. After the shop closed, and everyone cleared out except for me and him, he finally passed out.

"What were you doing in the coffee shop later than normal Mr. Summers?" I asked him cleaning the scalpel of the plastic.

"Why would I tell you that?" he spat.

"Because, curiosity always gets the better of me. And a confession to your attempted robbery would be lovely."

"R-robbery? I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"You know Mr. Summers," I glare at him, "you are a terrible liar.". He didn't say anything, he just lied there, unmoving.

Finally he spoke up, his head never leaving his gaze of the ceiling, "Fine… I tried to rob your store, it held some pretty valuable relics Miss… And the Modulo family."

My lips curled into a grin, "What about the Modulo family Mr. Summers?"

"She killed them…" he was obviously lying, sweat stained his brow and gave him away; but I played along.

"She? Who is she Mr. Summers?" I almost wanted to laugh, but instinct told me no fairly sternly.

"Dennese. She took the gun from my pocket and shot her husband and child and then herself."

"That's terrible Mr. Summers." I said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

"You don't believe me?" he asked

"Never did. You see, Mr. Modulo was found on the floor, a bullet wound in his head; Mrs. and Miss Modulo were found in their beds, both shot in the head. Now, unless suicide victims have created a new way to shoot themselves in strange angles, the Modulo family was murdered.". Fear spread in his eyes, it travelled through him like a plague; he didn't speak.

"I thought so." with my scalpel in hand, I cut his throat. His blood gurgled in his mouth and spat onto the saran wrap that closed his mouth. A small drop or two got on him from where I poked a hole in the wrapping; but other than that, he was clean and bare with the blood slowly draining out of him and onto the plastic sheet that encased the room. His face trapped mid-scream.

With my gloved hand I shut his eyes. I may be what some call psychopathic, but I'm not an animal and will not let a dead person keep their eyes open. With his eyes shut and blood drained in a silver pail, I started the cleanup process.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi again.**

**So my last chapter wasn't that big of a hit, and I just wanted to say thank you to those who did see my story. **

**I would love if people gave me reviews about my writing, my story, etc. They can be criticizing or they can be praising. Don't be shy.**

**~Lucid3762**

* * *

"Local police find the body of John Summers in the house of Rudy Cooper, the former Ice Truck Killer." the news reporter said, her beautiful brown hair shimmering even over the camera, "We have no further clue to how the body was found." she stopped and looked behind her, a cop was exiting the building, his blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight. That's him, "Sir!" she ran up to him, "What can you tell us about the body?"

"Um," he started, thats him. Dexter _Morgan_. Not even his last name, "Well it's been placed just as the Ice Truck Killer was found when he committed suicide"-murdered, he was murdered you lying son of a bitch!-"there was hardly any blood in the body, so a copycat is highly unlike-"

"Morgan!" yelled a man off camera. When he entered the frame, I saw his black skin contrast with the white shirt and brown trousers he wore and his bald head shining with sunlight, "Get away from the camera! I'm sorry. There will be no more statements." I raised my eyebrow, he was rude. The camera focused on the reporter yet again as she started giving her summary of her "interview" with Dexter. I clicked the large red power button on the remote and grabbed my coat. I guess I'll just have to stir up the waters.

It was bright, but the air was so melancholy. It was just like any other crime scene, boring with the bustling cops holding back reporters and neighbors. I just need to get to the cops, tears in my eyes. As if on cue, tears started forming in my eyes and I put on my best grieving face.

"Please! Let me through!" I cried as I pushed my way towards the tape. Luckily, there wasn't a cop right where I was, so I ducked under the yellow tape and sprinted past the lawn and into the open house.

"Stop her!" I heard a Mexican voice call out. A few cops turned and started towards me. I still had tears left to cry, so that's what I did. I flung onto a woman, her long brown hair being shoved to my face. She was obviously shocked, I didn't feel any hands until I was pried from her grasp.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, I got a good look at her face through the tears in my eyes. She was Debra, Dexter's "sister".

"Please." I choked through my false tears, "Please, where's my dad?"

"Shit." said the Mexican that called for me when I first entered the house. Angel Batista, his bigger body was in the doorframe with his mustache and goatee, "He has a daughter?"

"Yes!" I cried, then I saw him. Dexter, "You! I saw you on the news! Please! Let me see my father!". He glanced skeptically at me and to the others. I looked back at them and saw Angel nod. With a hand on my back, Dexter led me to the body of John Summers; he looked the same as the night before, only he was way more pale. I tried to hard to keep my smile suppressed as memories of his eyes becoming lifeless flooded to the surface. A weird noise came out of my throat and I used it to my advantage; I flung myself to the floor in front of Mr. Summers and let the tears flow. To sell my act, I tried to reach for his face, but stopped myself and busted out crying more. I felt a presence behind me and felt a warm hand on my back; it took everything in me not to reach for the hand and break it out of instinct. With bleary eyes I looked up and saw Mr. Batista with wide open arms for comfort. I flung myself into them and sobbed while he patted my back.

"We have to take her down to the station." I heard a voice behind me, the black guy from the TV.

"Come on James, she's in grief." Angels voice soothed.

"Just get her down to the station.." he said coldly. Angel pried himself from me and got down on a knee to be as close to level with me as he could

"We're going to take you to the police station. Could you possibly answer a few questions for us?" he asked with a kind voice. I nodded and sniffed, they were buying it, and buying it hard.

The ride down to the station was long and fairly boring. I downplayed my "grief" by stopping my crying and just sitting in silence. So far, this is all working, I'm in the police station and Dexter knows my face. The room they put me in was comfy, brown couches and a cool atmosphere. I looked out the window while waiting for my interrogator and saw Debra, Angel, and Dexter talking. I couldn't see what they were talking about, but the occasional glance towards me suggested their topic was what to do with me. Finally, Debra and Angel walked into the room and sat on the couples couch across from me. I kept my eyes pointed towards my hands before the spoke.

"Miss Summers-" started Angel.

"Jane." I told them, I looked up, "You can call me Jane."

"Jane," Angel said slowly, "I'm sorry for your loss. Do you have a mother?"

"Unless you plan on sending me to live with a zombie, no." I snapped, "Sorry. I just lost my dad, I lose my temper easily."

"I know how that feels." Debra laughed. With a glare from Angel, she silenced.

"Does Mr. Summers have any other family members?" Angel asked.

"No. His mom and dad died in 9/11." I said, more melancholy.

"Oh… Unlucky life."

"You're telling me."

"So would you know your dad would be in the house of the Ice Truck Killer's suicide?"

Again, the restraint to yell out that he was murdered, "No. We don't live anywhere near there."

"Where do you live sweety?". I relayed the address of Mr. Summer's bachelor pad, "That's a bachelor's suite." Debra told Angel.

"Yeah, my mom died and forced me onto my dad unexpectedly. He didn't even know I existed until a couple days before he-" I stopped and let the fake tears start up again.

"Don't push yourself," Batista cooed, "You're doing very good for a grieving person.". I nodded and watched as Batista walked away giving me thanks for answering the questions. Debra, staying behind stared at me. When I glanced up, I asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing," she said with a big goofy smile, "just that I found you a place to stay until we catch the man who killed your father."-if only they knew.

"Really?" I asked, adding a small dash of hope in my voice, "Where?"  
"With my brother Dexter."-yes! This wasn't my plan, but it was better than before-"The man who you said you saw on the TV."

"T-thank you." I sputtered, letting my real excitement leak into my fake persona, "I won't be a bother, I promise."

"I know." she smiled at me which I returned. Debra walked out of the room and my smile kept. This was better than what I expected! I was only to get close to Dexter, be in the case as much as I could. Now, I get to live with him, find the proof I needed of Brian's death, find the proof I needed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello!**

**So this has been a fun story so far and there hasn't even been the biggest action scene yet. I'm so thankful for the review from the anonymous person and I would love to see the number of reviews rise with the views. **

**This one is fairly short and just descriptive.**

**Thank you so much everyone and enjoy.**

**~Lucid3762**

* * *

His house wasn't as grand as I expected, but on his cop salary, I remained silent. It was a simple white apartment complex with a green lawn and white railings and a blue roof. Now, inside, was luxurious. It was very roomy, with the first thing you see is the kitchen, built into the living room. In the living room was a desk and brown bookshelves stacked with books horizontally and vertically. The desk was cluttered with paper, police reports most likely, and a computer. White walls covered the place and a grey rug upon a wooden floor held a coffee table. Across the table was a small TV beside a small tableside lamp. In an organized way, the house was cluttered.

"I know it's not much," said Dexter, "but it's what we got."

"We?" I asked, turning my head to face him.

"You and me." he told me, the comfort was not in his voice. I just nodded and walked into the living room.

"Nice place." I commented.

"Huh," he said, obviously his mind was elsewhere, "Oh, yeah, thanks.". I'd have to keep my eye on him, if what Brian told me was true, he was a murderer.

"So," I said, "where am I to live?"

"Uh, I can make a bed out of the couch, and you could sleep there I guess." He said, his uncertainty showing. Poorly, I commented silently, his acting may need some work. My head turned up towards him as he walked around behind me and to the couch, "I'll grab the blankets and pillows." he turned towards a closet, got out a blanket, and stopped, "Do you like one or two pillows."

"Two pillows will do, thank you." I paused, acting was hard, but it was worth it, "Thank you, also, for letting me stay here. Especially since-" I stopped, pause again.

"Oh yes, uh, don't worry and don't stress about Mr. Summers, we'll get the killer." he reassured me.

"I'm sure you will.." I told him. Stay quiet, I ordered myself. I gave him a smile and walked into the living room and set by bag on the floor in front of the couch. In his house, I can get close, maybe close enough to get him to spill about Brian. I'll talk about it in the morning. I needed to plan out my work, he found the first body, I'm closer than I thought I was, but now he just needed to give me a reason, like he knew Brian.

"You hungry?" my thoughts were cut in the kitchen.

"Um, I don't want to bother." I told him.

"No, its no trouble. Would you mind if Debra, the woman from the precinct came to dinner?"

"You're girlfriend?" I asked, I had to be oblivious to his life, even though I looked into his life as far as records held. He was a normal kid, taken in from a crime scene by an officer Harry Morgan and was the new son and the sister of Debra Morgan. Harry died of a heart problem and I couldn't remember much on the Morgan mom. In the younger years of Dexter he was accused of killing a dog, now that was something I had to dig for. But I hardly got any other insight than what Brian gave me. Brian's story was that him and Dexter were brothers until the murder of his mother, Laura Moser. Harry took him in but left Brian because he looked like an already fucked up kid in two feet of blood. But when Brian went to go and talk to Dexter, he was not heard of again. Not until I saw on the news that he died. Suicide, they said. He wouldn't have done that, I knew him, all too well. Brian wasn't suicidal, and he wasn't the person who would go out like that. He told me two things were gonna happen on the trip; either he was gonna bring Dexter home, or he will be shot down by cops. Neither of that happened, or so I was told.

God, I thought to myself, I should have kept him home. I could feel tears about to come so I stopped thinking about Brian and finally refocused to my surroundings. Debra was there, when did she get here? We were at the coffee table eating a steak and a baked potato with a side of green beans. Debra was in front of me looking at me and trying to get my attention, so was Dexter.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked.

"Jesus, she's really fucked up about this." Debra stated.

"Deb." Dexter said to his step-sister.

I took this as an opportunity, "I-I was just thinking of dad. He wasn't the best, but he was all I had."

"Shit," Debra said, "sorry."

"Don't be, you didn't kill him." I told her and looked down at my hands. Nice job, I praised myself. But did they believe my lie?, "So you wanted to ask questions?"

"You don't have to push yourself." Dexter told me.

I smiled and nodded, "I know I don't, but anything I can do to bring the killer to justice is worth the pain.". With that, they went into questions, was there anybody who had it out for Mr. Summers, how long had I lived with him, etc. Normal questions that brought Mr. Summers to life. When they had their fill of answers and food, they took the dishes and brought them to the kitchen. While I sat there, they had a side conversation; I honed in my hearing.

"Should we consider her a suspect?" Debra asked him.

"Well, I don't know Deb." I heard Dexter reply, "She seems innocent."

"Everybody seems innocent Dex, but you and I know better than anyone that no one is who they say they are." Debra countered, "Well, it was nice to question her without cameras up my ass."

"Yeah." he said. I looked back at him; he had the same look Brian did when he was deep in thought. They were similar in almost every way, except for Brian having raven hair and Dexter being blond. Debra hardly looked like him, I guess some would argue that their faces were close, but I wouldn't listen. Brian told me specifically that him and Dexter were brothers by blood and that was why he left, to get his attention and bring him home. I watched as he slowly made his name with his first kill and gave so many subtle hints to "try and jog his memory." said Brian. A painting of the nails, the occupation, eventually a room of blood, etc. The last call Brian gave me was the day before they found his body, he told me that this was the night he was going to get Dexter on his side. I stayed up all night waiting for a reply, but the only thing I recieved was a news report that the Ice Truck Killer was found dead in the house he had, everything was pointed to suicide. I couldn't believe it, he wouldn't do that, even if he could save everyone he loved. I figured I had to investigate, so that's why I was here, why I murdered John Summers, why I acted. Now I just needed to get someone to confess something, anything that had to do with the case, if there was one anyway. I plotted to go with Dexter to the station and look through the files. Harshly, I was snapped back into reality by Dexter saying he was going to bed and it wouldn't hurt to follow in pursuit. I got changed into loose baggy clothes and lied on the make-shift bed and covered myself in the white blanket I received. This will do, I told myself, this will do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone! Sorry I haven't been posting much, weird things are happening for me and I've been trying to fix it, I think I got it though. **

**So enjoy this chapter and leave some reviews, it helps me write so much better. Sorry for the short chapter.**

**~Lucid3762**

* * *

I awoke to the smell of coffee and the whir of the machine. I saw myself sprawled across the couch, my legs and arms bent is strange ways; I quickly fixed myself from my disturbing position and sat up. Dexter was in the kitchen standing beside the coffee machine in a daze, his blonde hair everywhere.

"Morning." I said sleepily. He jumped back and his eyes started to focus on me.

"Oh, hello." he said and turned towards his coffee machine, "Coffee?"

"Do you have sweetener?" I asked. Wordlessly, he grabbed an opaque glass container and handed it to me, "Uh, thanks.". Finally the machine beeped and coffee was served. I hesitantly put the mug to my lips and took a sip. It tasted amazing, even, for once, without the sweet taste.

"You like it?" he said, obviously seeing my satisfaction.

"Absolutely." I answered truthfully. Silently, we sipped our coffee.

"You seem better." he commented.

I smiled, unaware of my dropped guard, "I feel better.". His smile wasn't as big and the gears in his head were working. I instantly dropped my smile and went back to sipping my coffee. I'd done it, I'd made his suspicion.

"So, um," I began to act out nervousness, wringing out my shirt hem, "Can I go to the precinct with you? Please? What if the guy who killed my father comes after me?"

"I think you already have to go, answer questions on public record, if you're okay with it." he told me.

"Yeah, anything to get me away from who killed him."

"You know who killed him?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"No, if I did, you'd know." I replied.

"I'm sure you would." he turned his back to me, "Get ready, we leave in a couple minutes.". I unhurriedly put a shirt over my tank top and changed into jeans. In the bathroom, brushing my teeth, he came in and shooed me out so he could shower. I waited at the kitchen with a coffee mug in hand while I heard the shower water run. Now would be a perfect time to snoop. I glanced at his desk and saw a computer; before I went, I listened, he was recently in the shower, so I gave myself ten to twenty minutes. Hurriedly, I hacked into his computer and went to his search. Cleared, not a web link in place. I checked his person's search. A long list of names popped up. Hurry hurry, I scolded myself. I knew that I had to dwindle down the information. What was the name Brian used while here? Rudy, Rudy Cooper. I typed that in and a search came up followed by a pop-up saying:

"Do you mean Brian Moser?". I clicked on it, and his records popped on the screen. My eyebrow moved upwards and a smile curled onto my lips but I knew I shouldn't get ahead of myself, so he looked up his name, so what?

I heard the shower water click off and hurriedly memorized every aspect of the page I thought was useful, name, date it was searched, etc. I closed the laptop computer and got by the door before Dexter walked out in a white collar shirt and brown slacks, his hair was wet and brushed.

"You about ready to go?" I asked him, letting a small smile escape my lips. He nodded and we were on our way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hiya! So now I'll be posting more of the story which is, sadly, almost done. I makes me happy to see all the views and the few reviews I see. Enjoy the chapter!**

**~Lucid3762**

* * *

At the police station, everything I was asked before was brought up yet again. I put on my best mask and continued the day in Dexter's office, told to stay there by Debra. I sat on the spinning chair and gave into my childish instincts. I slid around the room with the chair and spun in circles in place.

Dexter opened the door and found me spinning. I stopped, looked at his raised eyebrow, and my stupid smile dropped.

"Uh… Hi?" I started.

"What are you doing?" he asked. I didn't know how to ask so I just put my mask back on and acted embarrassed, which, in reality, I was embarrassed. I was caught being a child on a mission. I stood up out of the chair and held my hands in front of my stomach and my eyes glued to the floor. I only looked up when I heard him laugh, not a sarcastic one, it sounded genuine, that he found my activities entertaining. I laughed along with him, feeling for once, able to show a little of my true-self. It was a bad thing, but for the moment I didn't care; for the smallest moment, I felt as if my revenge meant nothing, but then I remembered why I came. Brian, he was special to me.

"I'm going to go and grab some food." I walked out of the room before stopping and re-entering, "I need money. Please?". He smiled and pulled out his wallet and handed me a ten dollar bill. I gave him a grateful smile and walked out of the precinct.

For lunch, I ate at a small mobile restaurant that served me nacho's and a nice ice cold water. As I was eating Debra came to the same restaurant and sat in the metallic chair across from me; on her plate was a large burger and water.

"Hi." she said to me with a smile.

"Hello." I replied kindly, "They serve good food here."

"Yeah," she paused, "you know he likes you right?"

"What?" I asked, partially startled.

"Dexter, he finds you similar to one of the kids he knew." she reported. I didn't say anything, I just sat there in silence. It explained so much, like how he laughed at my childlike behavior instead of be disgusted. I never tried to think with my heart, it was a dangerous move and it got Brian killed, but something inside me made me feel happiness that someone other than Brian cared about me. The emotions I felt were kept behind the mask though and Debra only saw the faintest glimmer of joy in my eyes.

"Frankly, I think that you should stay with him, or me." she suggested, "Since you got no family.". She finished her burger and water and stood, "I'm gonna head back to the precinct, think on it." she nodded to my barely touched food. I nodded and looked at my nachos; the cheese was surrounding each chip gracefully, so much was on my mind and I honestly didn't know what to think. Just a couple of minutes ago, my heart was intent on murdering Brian's killer; now, I couldn't decide what to choose, a choice I was unfamiliar with. Life or death.

* * *

Back in the precinct, Debra sat in her chair, doing research on John Summers for his portfolio of his life to aid in the investigation. Everything seemed normal, he was born to the rich millionaire Richard Summers and Eve Summers, was a nerd throughout school and into college in Harvard where he majored in Finance. He was married and had no next of kin. She read on a little more until she stopped and re-read the file. No children kept repeating in her mind. She was confused and decided to dig deeper into it. She typed in Jane Summers into the computer and got two results, a Jane D. Summers from the late 1800's and a Jannette Summers who lives in Springfield and is 50-years-old.

"Angel, get over here." Debra beckoned. When she felt Batista's presence behind her she pointed to the screen where it showed the only Jane Summers in existence. She could hear Batista swear under his breath.

"Where is she now?" he asked her.

"Last I saw her was at the shack." she reported. He nodded and left the room in a hurry. Debra realized she'd have to break the news to Dexter; the poor bastard. She knew and recognized her brother for showing limited to no emotion when around her, but this was different. Slowly, she stood from her chair and walked over to the lab door which was closed off. She raised her hand to knock hesitantly. Should she really do this? Yes. She knocked thrice on the door and saw as Dexter opened the door.

* * *

I was just about to get up and throw away my empty bowl of nacho's when Batista strolled up to me.

"Hi Sergeant Batista." I greeted him.

"Hi Jane." he said to me, elongating the false name.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nah," he reassured falsely, "We just need to ask you a few more questions."

"Have you found something on my father's case?"

"Something like that.". I nodded and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. directed me towards the precinct, into an interrogation room, and left me alone in the dull grey room. They found out, I told myself, I was stupid and should have done better than that! I should have had a thought out plan for the backstory! Not one someone can easily refuse! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! While I raged at myself internally, the mask that was Jane Summers was still on; that was until he walked back in, Dexter.

"You're not an interrogation person, are you?" I asked. He gave me nothing but a cold stare, "What's wrong?"

"What's your name." he commanded instead of asked.

I gave a short laugh, "Jane Summers, you know this - what's going on?"

"Someone found out that the only Jane Summers in existence were a 1800's lady and 50-year-old lady in Springfield. No daughter to our murder victim." I could tell his blood was rising and he was trying to contain it, not used to showing such vast emotions. I kept up my mask better than his and just watched as he cooled down.

"What is your name?" he asked, more monotone.

"Jane Su-"

"Real name."

"Jane Summers." I said, having more of a persistent tone in my voice, "It really is.". With a defeated sigh, Dexter stood and walked out of the room. I knew he didn't actually care, Debra just misinterpreted his signals; I knew that I shouldn't believe anything the pair said; and I should have never even thought with my heart. I spent the entire day in the room, getting asked questions, being checked for DNA that was long burnt off. At the end of the day, Debra walked into the interrogation room and beckoned me to go back home. I silently walked down the precinct silently and into the elevator where we stood in silence. The car ride was awkward before Debra finally spoke up.

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I don't think you're dangerous." she commented.

"Oh?" I kept my eyes fixed on my hands in my lap.

"Yeah, maybe you're just an orphan who wanted a home, I wouldn't blame you for trying, but - Jesus, I'm bad at girly talking."

I looked up at her and smiled gently in my mask, "You're doing pretty good on my part.". She smiled back at me and pulled into the parking lot, "Just be careful of him, don't talk much.". I nodded and stepped out of the car, "Thanks Debra.". She nodded and pulled out of the parking lot. I stepped up to his apartment and knocked on the door. He opened the door slowly and stopped when the lock pulled tight.

"Hi." I said softly. Without a word, he closed the door and I heard the click of the metal before the door opened fully to allow me in. As I walked in, I heard the door click shut behind me. I should have been aware, been wary of him like Debra warned; but I didn't realize what was going to happen until I felt the sting of a needle in my neck and the pressure of injection and finally started to feel my vision becoming hazy and blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6

**So because I have no life, I finished chapter six! I hope you enjoy it.**

**If you guys like it, you should tell me, if you think I'm doing something wrong, tell me. It helps a lot when I get feedback!**

**Thanks and enjoy!**

**~Lucid3762**

* * *

I woke up on a plastic table and felt the warmth of lights beneath me. Around me, I saw the entire room encompassed in a plastic wrap. For a split second, I wondered if Brian had faced this room before just as I had now and what he was thinking. I wiggled in the plastic restraints that encompassed my body. Knowing better than to scream I calmed myself and wondered where Dexter was, lurking in the shadows; almost as if on cue I saw Dexter appear.

"Hi." I said, trying to keep up the Jane mask.

"Hello." he replied, his voice cold and calculating. He wore a simple brown shirt and a clear plastic apron with yellow kitchen-cleaning gloves, "You are one complex creature." he commented as he reached out over to a table and grabbed a silver metallic tool, a scalpel. Dexter admired the tool before drawing the instrument over my cheek, drawing blood - it hurt, but I didn't scream, and bit down on my tongue enough for me to taste my blood. I saw the way her admired the blood and took out a dropper and put my blood onto a slide, in which he admired more.

"Rachel." I said, hiding my pain as best as I could.

"What?" he turned toward me, a look of pure confusion on his face.

"My name, my real name, is Rachel." I told him.

"Well Rachel, this isn't my usual tactic for interrogation." he put the slide down on the table beside me. I laughed despite my current situation, "What's so funny?" he asked.

I finally dropped the mask, "Oh, nothing. Other than you didn't let me finish."

"Finish what?" he sneered, but stopped and gave me a glance of pity before turning away from my view and placing his hands upon the table, "Finish what?" he asked again, this time softer, kinder than before.

"My name. It's not Jane Summers obviously. Its Rachel, as I said before." I looked at him with a cold hard stare before softening again, "It's Rachel Moser." He looked at me with a look of pure and true confusion. It was obvious he had heard that last name before

"You're lying." he said, his cold tone died down a little.

"Nope." I replied, starting cockily but being kinder, "And it's fairly obvious too that John Summers wasn't my father," I looked at him, "Brian Moser was. My mother was Amber Ly-"

"You need to stop talking." he interrupted and shoved a cotton ball in my mouth. I only glared at him. The last thing I saw before closing my eyes was his raised knife, about to strike. I kept my eye's closed for what seemed like hours before reopening them to see the knife resting on his head with the hilt in his hands and held it there tightly while having an intense conversation with himself. I tried to speak to him, trying to get his attention, but was stopped by the cotton ball. Shaking my head, I saw his eyes open slowly and saw why his eyes were closed, a single tear slid down his cheek. He noticed me and carefully took the cotton ball out of my mouth and turned away from her.

"Dexter." I whispered softly, I tried to be kind and gentle, the way Brian spoke to me before he left to find his brother, "I know, this is weird and unjust, but you need to believe me." I tried to get an angel of his face, find out what he was thinking and form what I needed to say, he gave no hint to anything, making my job a lot harder, "Dexter please, I don't know what happened to Brian, I quite frankly I don't care who did it, just please, don't let history repeat itself. Please! Debra told me that you thought of me like a child you once had, would you do this to your child?" This got his attention and he turned to face her sharpley and slammed his hands on the table near my head with a loud crash, whatever I was doing, it was working, "Please, Dexter, if I know you like I think I do, you won't do this. I see a storm inside of you and can be helped if you want it to. And if not, I'd still be there to help you, to hide what you need." He looked up at me with pleading eyes.

"Don't help me. It's a storm that can't be settled. I'm a very bad guy." he told me, his eyes averted to the floor.

"Then I won't help you. And you're not a bad guy, you're a hero in your own way. I won't stop you, just don't stop me. Don't kill me.". Dexter looked at me and back down to his knife, still in his hand. He glanced back at me and moved quickly, cutting the plastic sheets that tied me to the table. I felt the pressure that held me down be relieved and blood flow back into my body. I quickly hopped off the table and ran to a towel I saw lying on a plastic covered table. I presumed it was for when he would clean my blood off himself afterwards, but I wrapped it around myself. Turning around, I saw Dexter there, lying down with tears streaming down his face; I walked over to him and kneeled beside him placing my hand upon his shoulder while holding the towel to myself, ""See Dexter, you're not a bad guy at all, you just think you are.". His teary eyes looked up at me hesitantly; I saw so much emotion, so much war in his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and lifted him up as much as I could. We were both on our feet and walked out of the room, leaving it pristine and untouched. Dexter got himself together and stepped into the driver side of the car and we started the drive home. I looked around the area, we were in a secluded area, hardly any lights were in the area besides Dexter's car lights. It was a dingy neighborhood, possibly a drug house or two just around the block. All the houses were brown and decaying, some yellow with cigarette smoke, and a few houses that seemed burned to the ground from God knows what. Pot and crackheads littered the dim streets, most buzzed on their choice drug and shuffling around the streets like zombies, not knowing what to do other than get money or more drugs. Prostitutes also walked along the streets, looking for their next customer in their scantily clad clothes and high-heels and waving with long colored fingernails at passing cars. I wondered if they ever questioned what happened in the room we were just in, but I didn't share my curiosity with Dexter out of fear that we would go right back to that room. I continued to watch out the window, my back towards Dexter, trying not to remember anything from that room, but the flashes of the plastic room still filled my mind every time I closed my eyes. When I reopened them, we were pulling into the parking lot of the apartment. Wordlessly, Dexter got out of the car and went inside. I sat for a second and watched him going into the apartment before I got out and followed in his footsteps, my head hung low and fingers interlaced with each other and walked silently and slowly through the door frame, shutting it behind me quietly. I did not say a word, but just watched as Dexter walked into his room and shut the door behind him in a hushed but slamming manner. I knew what I had to do for the good of everybody.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello!**

**If you like this story, favorite and follow it, if you like my writings, I have more in my profile, and if you _loved_ this story, leave a review telling me so.**

**Thanks!**

**~Lucid3762**

* * *

Dexter awoke, still in a slight buzz from last night. He reminisced, he came so close to killing her, the knife was in his hand and the energy was pulsing, but just before he struck, he saw her eyes close, and saw a flash of all the people he missed. Brian, the kids, she looked like them in that second. Her face was peaceful, not happy about death, but welcoming it. He couldn't do it, after what she had said to him, about her not having to help him, and him being a hero. He didn't understand why, after so many years of feeling little to no emotion when dealing with killers, did he become so overwhelmed by his emotions that he couldn't complete his rituals. Maybe it was because he thought of Jane as his own child, Debra did invite her to stay with him after all. His thought process was interrupted as he corrected his mistake - Rachel, not Jane. Brians daughter; all the little things came back to him. He recognized the fact that he almost just killed his niece. Dexter quickly sat up on his bed and walked out the door, to an empty apartment. Rachel wasn't on the couch, and the bag she arrived in with was also gone, yet it the vast emptiness of the apartment, there was an omelette on a plate and coffee in the cup he used when she was here, both were still steamy and fresh. Beside it was a sheet of lined paper that was wrote on:

_Dear Dexter,_

_I realized the night we got back that my presence here has been overdue. In saving my life, you've given me a chance to change how I go through life, and I thank you for that. But in being near, I have realized that there are serious consequences. There are legal problems and I fear that I would cause another episode of last night. I do truly believe that you are the hero of your own story, and that you can still be great. And although I will not be there to be your "sidekick", I will help whenever you slip up, if that ever be. Such as the house in Bank Street, if you ever go there again, you'll see an old house, not a trace of plastic nor the table. I also put the prize in your collection._

Dexter went to check. He opened the vent and pulled out the wooden box and opened it. There is was, the 34th slide when Dexter remembered only 33 before meeting Rachel. When he held the delicate slide, he saw the name Rachel Moser written in her handwriting. He put the collection back and went back to the letter,

_I hope that you live a well life Dexter, and apologize to the police for my antics, tell them about me if you wish, the real me. I also hope you can forgive me for every problem I have caused and just tell Batista that the person who killed Mr. Summers got to me. Enjoy the breakfast I made, and I hope we can meet on better circumstances._

_With much love,_

_Rachel Moser_

Dexter smiled, a silent guardian. He glanced at the food and gave a smile and figured it was better to eat. As he was eating, a knock came on the door. He trudged up to the door and opened it to find Debra, her face lit up in anger and a paper in her hand,

"Did you get this?" she asked, holding up the paper.

"Something like that, yeah." he replied, Debra brushed past him and saw the half-eaten omelette and coffee.

"God dammit, she even made you breakfast!" Debra raged.

"Did she make you some?" he questioned.

"Hell no!" Debra answered, "How would she get it without a key!" She sat down and took the paper for Dexter and read through it, "Prize? Collection? Rachel? What the hell Dex!"

"Her name, it's Rachel Moser." he told her.

"Is she your sister?"

"No, niece."

"Niece? Your brother's daughter? Dex why the hell don't you tell me these things?"

"Because I only knew about it last night Deb.". Debra scoffed and threw down the paper.

"We need to find her, not for police business. She's the last female Moser and family." she told Dexter, "Come on, grab your coat." she ordered as she threw a coat on the coatrack to him. He caught it and walked out in tow of his sister to her car.

"Deb, are you sure you want to find her?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"I don't know, maybe she doesn't want to be found."

"Well where's she gonna fucking live Dex? On the streets?". Dexter said nothing and just shrugged.

I watched them, the two of them trying to find me - Debra more into it than others. Her argument wasn't every convincing, she probably wanted me for questioning on who I was. But then again, Debra cared more about family than her job or sex with hot men. I figured that if they were looking for me, I'd appear, I was Dexter's "guardian angel". I smiled to myself and jumped down from the roof, walked over to the door, and pulled out my lock-picking equipment. Swiftly and easily, I got into the door and sat on the couch where I had slept just a few hours ago. Not knowing what to do, I just sat there, planning what I was going to do when Dexter, Debra, or both walked through the door. Was I going to stand when they got here? Bound to the door like a happy puppy? I still wasn't sure even as they slumped through the door, obviously dismayed they hadn't found me. I sat there, staring at them and laughed due to the sadness in their eyes. Debra was the first to look at me and I saw light return to her eyes as she ran to me and wrapped me in a tight embrace:

"Jesus fucking christ kid! We were looking for you for most of the day!" she exclaimed, not letting go. Awkwardly, I returned her embrace and patted her back for a second before she let go and Dexter sat beside me. He hooked me into a one-arm embrace in which I returned with a smile. I looked at the pair before speaking:

"I'm sorry. I had to leave. I'm a danger here." I told them.

"You're no more dangerous than me." Dexter comforted. I smiled, it was true, we were alike, more than he thought; but that would be revealed later on. But no matter, she just enjoyed the embrace of Debra and the smiles on the siblings and even the warm dinner of burgers, fries, and a pickle slice as if at a restaurant with water and the news playing out on the TV. All was well until my picture showed up on the television. It was an APB for me, trying to figure out who I was, Dexter stopped talking and turned up the volume.

"The woman, only known as Jane Summers, has eluded Miami's police department after the bright detective Debra Morgan found evidence that the alleged daughter of their murder victim was pretending to be his child when Mr. Summers had no children. If you see this young girl, please call the tip line anonymously or not. The Miami Police Department thanks you. Next, more coverage of the missing -" Dexter turned off the TV. I only stared at the blackened screen, no words were uttered for an elongate time.

"Rachel." Debra started.

I looked up at her, "I need to go." I stood, "I told you that I was a danger to you two."

"You're not dangerous." Dexter countered.

"I'm wanted, if they see you harboring me, they'll arrest you." I looked at Dexter, "and demote you." I told Debra. As I walked towards the door, I was stopped by Dexter.

"This will pass after a couple of days. Just lay low then come back.". I nodded at him and gave a gracious smile before leaving the residence. Not sure where to go, I ran, ran to the last place I thought I'd ever go to, the last place life and death became aware to me.

* * *

Everything was just as I remembered it. The men, high on the drugs bumbling through the streets, the women looking for customers.

"Got any weed?" asked one pothead, his beanie on his lopsided head and a grey coat hanging off his body; I shook my head and moved on. The house slowly came to view as well as flashing lights; red and blue.

"Shit." I whispered angrily. The lights were blaring just down the other way, towards where I was standing. The once littered street of people was now a desert and I was the only one left. Quickly, I lept into the bush that was nearby and waited for the lights to pass. Time and the patrol cars seemed to creep by ever so slowly. After eternity had passed and the lights were gone, the streets became lively again, to their best extent. It was only after I saw a druggie pass did I crawl out of the bushes and ran to the desolate house. It was just as it was when I had "cleaned" it of it's horror. It was a horrendous experience, seeing as how I was only there hours before about to face my own death. The flashbacks always got to me, the plastic, hanging menacingly on the walls. This time, I was lying on the floor, unknowingly in the spot the table was at and when I closed my eyes, I was there. The plastic hung on the wall stapled to the corners where the ceiling and the wall met, I was on the table, the same familiar heat on my back was there and the strain of the wrapping on my skin as I tried to struggle. There appeared Dexter on the top on my head, he took my blood. But instead of not killing me, I felt the knife plunge into my throat. I awoke gasping and sweating on the floor, no plastic, no death, but a blinding light burning through the window; daylight. It was midday and no sound came through on the streets, the prostitutes and druggies were gone, until nightfall again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Welp this is the last chapter!**

**Had fun writing it and hope you enjoyed it!**

**~Lucid3762**

* * *

_Three weeks later_

All the fuss about me had died down, police had moved on to a different person, and I was assured that they wouldn't remember my face after a year or so. Without hesitation, I ran back to Dexter's place where I stayed for quite some time before he returned from work. A smile crept up on his lips and he sat next to me:

"Welcome back." he said, clapping my shoulder. He got up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing food and drinks.

"Dexter." I said quietly.

"Yeah?", his head still in the fridge, shuffling through the contents.

"I killed John Summers.". The ruffling had stopped, he just stood there, his head in the fridge. Slowly, he stood erect and looked over at me, his face blank.

"So?"

"It felt good. He brutally murdered the Modulo family, but they didn't have enough evidence that he had cleaned up so carefully." I could feel the anger boiling inside me, "A wife, her husband, and their kid."

"As you told me before, you're the hero in your own way.". I let a small laugh escape me and looked at him. He smiled at me and walked back to the couch, "That's what I do. Kill people who, well, kill people."

"Is that why you killed my dad? Why you almost killed me?" I asked. He only nodded; I looked away, determined not to cry.

"But I also didn't feel the same before I almost killed you. Didn't feel that same animal instinct."

"What did you feel?"

"Parental instinct. You're not my kid, but I feel like you are. When I held the knife and I saw you, so at peace with your death, I just couldn't". I smiled at him and put my hand on his shoulder; he looked at me and smiled again before his cell phone went off.

"Morgan." he answered, "Uh huh, okay." he hung up and stood, "Dead body, lots of blood. I'm gonna guess this wasn't you."

I smiled, "Of course not."

"Alright." he said and walked out of the building.

* * *

It was hours later that he returned. Night had fallen as Debra and Dexter walked back into the apartment, dreary from the hours of work.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

"Fuckin' terrible. Not a single witness, but a lot of blood." Debra complained.

"You're not the person that has to clean that up or make an analysis of it." Dexter told her. Debra held her hands as I laughed at the two.

"Did you catch him?" I asked.

"We have an idea, but we'll question him tomorrow." Debra reported. I nodded and glanced at Dexter, he had the same far off look when he was thinking. But I could tell what he was thinking, he was going to pay their witness a visit. After a prolonged visit, Debra left and we were alone.

"You're gonna see him tonight?" I asked, not looking up from my hands.

"The witness? I may go scout." he replied flatly.

"I'm coming, right?"

"Sure.". We said nothing more. He went to his room and I went to mine.

The night passed slowly while in the car. I was filled in along the way:  
"His name is Jason Avi. He's had a record for murder, all the evidence right there, but before they could arrest him, he disappeared." Dexter told me as he drove, "Now he's back, killing the same way he used to for the others. Lots of blood and no money in the victims wallets. ".

"Well that must've been fun." I said dryly.

"Yeah, sure.". We parked in front of a bar, it was dingy and hardly used. From a distance, it looked like a homeless shelter that had ran out of money long ago or a brown wooden box. If there was a sign there, it was long gone. There was only three cars in the lot, I was assuming that two for the workers and one for who we were looking for; my guess wasn't wrong. He came stumbling out, obviously drunk and in a stupor. He was trying to walk straight towards his car but tripping and almost falling.

"Should we..?" I started, pointing at the drunken man. Dexter nodded and grabbed a black bag that I remembered had all his "tools" in it and pulled out a syringe. Before he could get out of the car, I stopped him with my hand.

"Let me do it." I told him and reached for the syringe. He looked at me and back to the object in his hand and back to me before nodding and handing me the weapon. I stepped out of the car and stealthily ran over to Jason Avi. His back was to me and stumbling with his car keys, trying to get the key in the lock. With the syringe behind my back I poked his back; he jumped and turned towards me with his back on the door.

"Hi!" I said with a false sweetness.

"Jesus kid! You scared the shit outta me." he slurred.

I giggled, "Come here," I beckoned, "I have a secret I wanna tell you.". Reluctantly, he bent down, his ear near my mouth, "I'm gonna kill you." I said in a sing-songy voice before carefully putting the syringe in his neck and releasing the fluid. Quickly he dropped to the ground, like a stone in water. I turned my head towards where Dexters car was and held up my thumb. I saw movement and the lights flicker on as the car started and he drove around to meet me and the unconscious man. Quickly we grabbed the man's arms and flung him into the backseat of Dexter's van before hurrying to the front and driving off in what seemed like no time at all towards a final destination.

The area was desolate, not the same place as I had Dexter's fun experience, if not more remote than that. It was a broken down train car in the area where trains no longer passed due to the lack of, well, everything. Broken rails splayed from their original straight lines, train cars toppled over to one side and growing vines, the sorry heap of twisted metal and splintered wood made up the once great station. Yet out of all the silent chaos that was here, one train car still standing was the sight of what was going to happen. Walking up to the cart, it was obvious something weird was in their, small slits of plastic hung through the cracks of the door. When I opened the door, the horrors from weeks ago came back; plastic everywhere, the feeling of being trapped with nowhere to go and pain. Back in reality, I found myself on the ground, panting as if I had ran, and a confused Dexter with an unconscious man being dragged behind him.

"You don't have to go in there. It wouldn't be bad." he told me comfortingly.

"No," I gulped, "I have to do this." _for my own sanity_, I thought to myself. I grabbed ahold of the bar hanging off the side of the car and pulled myself in; everything was just as it was, a large table, glowing with light and plastic sheets covering every inch of the van. I turned back to Dexter as he handed me the rope connecting to Jason Avi's feet and started to lug him up into the box car while Dexter pulled himself in. Once he was in and closed the door, I grabbed hold of his hands while Dexter got his feet; together we managed to plop the heavy unconscious man onto the bright table. Dexter started to undress the man before I heard a moan escape Jason's lips, he was awakening slowly. Dexter and I shared a quick glance before flying into action, wrapping the man's body in a thick layer of plastic wrap. Being as small and agile as I was, I wrapped his upper body, the most built up part in the man's body. As his muscles were wrapped in plastic, I worried more about time than I did about crushing him. In no time flat he was securely tied up and lolling his head from side to side. I sat down in the plastic and waited. Dexter handed me an apron, it was dirt brown and was ten sizes too big; I didn't care, I smiled, took it, and put it on. Right as I tied it behind my back, Jason was starting to open his eyes. Surprisingly, he wasn't supremely drunk, then again, who knows how long it's been since we grabbed him. Dexter hid in the shadows while I hovered over his head:

"Good morning sleepy head." I said in a baby-talk voice.

Jason opened his eyes fully before opening his mouth, "You!" he spat.

"Me!" I replied with glee, "Welcome home." I held up my arm and presented the room.

"This isn't home. Listen little bitch, I don't know what yo-" his wandering eyes laid on the pictures of the two people that he killed one of their driver's license shot and the pictures from the crime scene.

"You like 'em?" I walked up to them, "They were killed," I turned my head back to the man, "by you."

"I-I didn't kill nobody." he defended. I looked up at Dexter and he appeared from the shadows.

"You're a bad liar." he took over. Jason's attention was drawn to Dexter while I grabbed the cotton balls and the scalpel with slide glasses.

"So why'd you do it?" I asked, "Did they owe you money?"

"No! Not _that_ bitch." he nodded to his recent victim. I looked at Dexter, dialed back pride filled his face, "she just was getting to close." he admitted. I nodded and shoved the cotton balls into his mouth, silencing him.

"Thanks." I said flatly as I dragged the scalpel across his cheek, drawing blood. He bit down on the cotton and let out a silent scream. I moved out of the way so Dexter could take the blood from his cheek and put it on the slide I held out for him. I closed the small pane on the droplet of blood right as Jason spit the cotton balls out of his mouth and onto the floor.

"That's unsanitary." I commented monotonously.

"What, is she your assistant? Partner-in-crime?" he spat with fire. I grabbed the cotton balls of the floor and dusted them off.

"What would you call us?" I asked as I looked at him.

"Daughter and father," he started to list, "Assistant, maybe; apprentice."

"Apprentice!" Jason cried out.

"Yeah, sure." I stuck the cotton balls in his mouth again and clamped spare tape we had over his mouth, "I like that or daughter and father." I smiled at him as I walked back to the tray of tools.

"Which one," I curtsied with my apron, "master." When I looked back up at him we both started to laugh; Jason was confused but tried to laugh along with us.

"That one," he pointed to the knife I remember was suspended above me once, "my young apprentice.". This started another wave of laughter before I handed him the knife and let him complete his ritual. Afterwards we were burdened with cleaning up the train, no crime if there's no body. I was given the easy job of cleaning off the tools while Dexter chopped the body into different pieces and stuck them into various black trash bags.

"So." he started.

"So what?" I replied, not looking up from my chore.

"Are you panicked by the fact you helped me kill someone."

"I told you," I started scrubbing at the blood on the knife. "I've killed before."

"True," he looked up at me, "let's just say the last time I let someone in on this life, it ended badly."

I smiled before I looked up at him, "We started badly," I continued my work, "So what happened?"

"He went crazy, went on his own and just wanted to kill anybody who was in his way."

"Not anybody that killed others." I finished for him.

"Yeah. In the end, he ended up on the table."

"Where all bad killers end up." I smiled but slowly dropped it.

Dexter saw this and commented, "Don't worry, you're not a bad killer." he looked down and resumed cutting, "Yet." he added with a smile. I looked at him and let out a small laugh. After all the tools were cleaned and everything was in the car, we began to dismantle the plastic from the walls and returned the cart to it's normal dead self; next we went to the dock and loaded all the plastic and trash bags into his boat and sailed out into the far ocean in the night until we came upon a spot with, on the GPS, blew up with red. I studied the image on the screen with interest. All individual lumps of, my guess, trashbags of people; I smiled knowing that many people had been put away for the only guarantee of forever. I was knocked out of my daze when I heard a splash behind me, Jason Avi's body was being dumped into the ocean and sinking; I helped and watched as each bag sunk deeper until it was invisible. Going back to the GPS I saw the new arrival being added to the group; my mind went to the idea of each bag shouting out a hello to their new member and catching him before he landed hard upon the floor; at the thought, I laughed and turned away from the monitor. Dexter came back around and we sailed back to the docks and back into the car where we ended up back home. The minute I hit the bed, I was asleep and wasn't waking up until morning. Sadly, that was what seemed like seconds away and I awoke to a knock on the door; it was Debra.

"So it turns out the man we were going to talk to disappeared last night." she said and looked up. I turned my head to see Dexter behind me.

"I wouldn't know anything." I smiled.


End file.
